Three Times Dean Slugs Sam
by CldyAlwys
Summary: Title sums it up. Wee and Teen chesters. Lots of angst. Completed it a wile ago, just thought I'd add it to my collection here.


**I do not own Supernatural.**

**I.**"Hey Sammy, wanna play a game?"

They're both in the backseat, have been all damn day and Dean's antsy. No, he passed antsy an hour ago, now he's ready to climb walls. If he could sneak up front that would help, but no dice. Sammy would whine, he'd be sent right back and really, it's more trouble than it's worth.

Sometimes he gets to sit up front, like when Sammy's napping or dad need's help navigating through the back roads, but mostly he stays in the back. To keep Sammy entertained, as dad puts it, which is just what he intends to do.

At the prospect of something new, the five year old pokes his head out from behind Dean's comic book, eying him with curiosity.

"What kind of a game?"

"It's really cool, but you can't be a wuss."

"I'm not a wuss." Sammy juts his chin out a couple of inches, ready to submerge into pure pout mode, but curiosity gets the better of him and he looks up at Dean, head cocked to the side. "How do you play?"

"It's real simple. We take turns tapping each other on the shoulder and the one who hits the softest wins."

"Dean." Dad's voice is low, but the warning is there. Dean thinks they're might be a hint of amusement as well, but he's not sure.

"I want to play," Sammy half whines, looking toward the front seat.

"Suit yourself," Dad gives in, his eyes going back to the road.

"You go first," Dean prompts. He doesn't want to give Dad the chance to change his mind.

Sammy taps him softly on the shoulder with his finger, smiling ear to ear and Dean almost feels a twinge of guilt. Almost. He waits a minute, the lets his fist fly in to his brother's chubby little shoulder.

Sammy lets out a whimper and Dean thinks he's going to cry for sure. He looks up at the mirror to see Dad's glare. Great, Sammy's gonna bawl, Dean will be in trouble and the rest of the afternoon will be shot to all hell.

But Sammy doesn't cry, he sniffs once and runs a sleeve over his snotty nose. A determined look comes over his face. "I wanna play again. This time you go first."

Dean grins, the kid never learns. He risks a glance in the mirror, unsure of what to expect. But Dad's just shaking his head, grin barely visible on his scruffy face, but it's there.

"Alright runt, I'll go first" Dean says, and the Impala drives on.

**II.**

"Dammit, Sam, block." John comes up behind Sam, grabs his arm and shoves it into place. "You know this shit, now focus."

He steps away and nods at Dean. "Again."

Sammy's tired, Dean knows this. Dad knows it too, but he still pushes. It builds stamina, John says. They've been at it for a while now and the kid wasn't half bad at first, but there was only so much the nine year old could take.

"You know, I could really use a water break," Dean tries.

John shakes his head. "After."

Dean shoots his brother a sympathetic look, then gets into stance. He waits for Sam to do the same. He takes it easy on him, only sending out jabs that he knows Sammy can block. Dean figures dad won't tolerate it for long, but it buys the kid some time to catch his breath.

"C'mon Sammy, you're not going to let me beat the crap out of you again, are you?" He chides.

It's a low blow, but it works. Dean sees his brother's brows furrow, sees the look of determination come across his face. Sam throws a couple of strong punches, Dean's still able to block them easily, but at least the effort is there. Dean in return sends out another easy jab and they get into an easy rhythm. To an outsider it might look like they're actually trying, but it's not fooling dad by any means.

"Again," John orders, when they break. He leans into Dean. "Stop going easy on him, or I'm going to take your place, got it?"

"Yes sir," Dean frowns.

Sam's frowning too, he might not have heard word for word what John said, but he gets the gist.

Dean gets into stance, and this time the punches he throws aren't as easy going. Sam has to struggle to keep up and he's stepping back more than he's throwing up blocks. Which is a good tactic too, but it's not what dad wants right now. They're working on blocks.

Dean throws a punch at Sam's abdomen, one he's sure his brother can't miss, but he feels his fist make contact with soft skin.

"Humpff." Sam let's out and folds himself in half.

"Shit," Dean cusses. Then, "Sammy, you alright?"

"I'm fine." His voice comes out as a whisper and when he unfolds himself, Sam's face is beat red.

Then John steps in front, blocking Sammy from his view. He speaks in a low voice and Dean can't make out what he's saying, but when John pulls away, Dean can see his brother's red eyes, and he's pretty sure it's not from the punch he just landed.

John turns towards Dean, thrusts the canteen into his hands. "Take five, then we're going to run." He starts toward the house, leaving Dean and Sammy alone.

Sammy uses the break to flop on the ground on his back and relax. Dean sits down next to him, offering the canteen over. Sam grabs at it and gulps greedily. It's not until his thirst is satisfied that he hands the canteen back to Dean.

"Thanks."

Dean grins before he tilts his head back and drinks.

**III.**

Sam's chopping up carrots when Dean walks in and the runt barely acknowledges him at all, except for a quick turn of the head. Probably to ensure that he's not a zombie, Dean thinks, hopping up on the counter to watch his brother.

"What gives?" Dean asks, reaching over to snag a carrot, fingers escaping the blade of the knife by just seconds.

"What?" Sam doesn't bother to look up.

Dean doesn't need to be a genius to know that something's bugging him, but he knows not to push. Sam's never been shy about expressing himself; he'll talk when he's good and ready.

"I thought it was my night to cook?"

Sam just shrugs. "Guess I didn't want leftover spaghetti again."

"What's wrong with my spaghetti?"

"Nothing, it's just I prefer it without all the extra penicillin on it."

Dean chuffs, "It's not that old."

"Yeah right,"Sam huffs.

There's a pause, then. "Any word from Dad?"

Dean's jaw gives an involuntarily twitch as he slides off the counter. "What do you think?"

"Dean-"

"Don't Sam, we agreed we weren't gonna do this every damn day."

"Yeah, but it's been-"

Three weeks since a single phone call, Dean knows, sure as hell doesn't need to be reminded. "I know how long it's been."

"But shouldn't we, I mean, what if-" Sam's stumbling over his words and Dean can feel the fear coming off his brother in waves. But he can't acknowledge it cause then he'd have to acknowledge his own-

"What if nothing Sam, Dad's fine, he's working and he can't call, but he's fine. Now we're not talking about it anymore." Dean turns his back, starts walking away, hoping Sammy doesn't insist on pushing him.

But Sam doesn't back off, Dean can hear him right on his heel. "That's stupid, we have to talk about Dean, we have to do something, he could be de-"

Dean doesn't know what he's done until he sees Sam clutching his jaw, then he feels his knuckles throb, knows if he glances down they're going to be red. He should feel guilty, but he doesn't, he just sees red and he's not sure he can stop himself from throwing another punch.

"Don't say that, don't you ever even think of saying it again, or I swear I'll..." And cause he can't finish the sentence, he turns and stalks on to the porch, letting the door slam behind him.

**IV.**

"Sam!"

Dean's hollering through the passenger window, trying to keep an eye on his brother as well as an eye on the road in front of him, and just damn Sam for walking on the opposite side of the street.

"Dammit Sammy, get in the car."

He's not surprised a bit when Sam refuses to do just that. His brother's got one fist shoved into his pocket and the other clenched to the strap of his book bag that's flung across his shoulder, moving faster than a damn jack rabbit and Dean can't even believe this is happening.

He gets fed up with following along with the car and pulls her over to the side of the road, jogging to catch up with Sam, cause just like always, when his brother sets his head to do something there's no slowing him down.

"Will you just stop so we can talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Sam throws over his shoulder. "I'm leaving and nothing you say is gonna change my mind."

The words cut Dean like ice, and he can't move, can barely breath. "Well, you're just damn proud of yourself aren't you?" He calls out once his lips can move again.

"Your damn right I am," Sam shoots back, turning around to face him.

"Proud of walking out on your family, just taking off and leaving."

"It's not like that Dean, I'm just going to coll-"

"You couldn't even tell me, couldn't drop me a hint or give me a head's up or anything. You just get your shit together and announce you're taking off, just like that. How long you been planning this Sam?"

"A while."

"A while," Dean repeats, disgusted smirk on his face. He feels his hands clench into fists and all of a sudden he wants to fight, wants a piece of Sam so bad it aches. "You know what," he says, "Just go, we don't need you anyway."

"Dean-"

"Go Sam, get the fuck out of here." The coldness in his own voice surprises him.

Sam turns to leave. "I never meant for it to be like this."

Dean just shakes his head, speechless, watches his brother turn and walk away, watches until his figure disappears into the night. It's a good while before he's able to get back in the Impala and drive home again.

When he does step through the front door, Dad's still on the couch where he left him, head buried in his lap. He looks up when Dean walks in and their eyes meet for a brief second, both breaking away at the same time. And Dean gets it, Dad drove him off and Dean couldn't make him stay. They both failed.

John stands up and meets his son, holds his hand out and it takes Dean a second to realize he wants the keys.

"Don't wait up," John orders, heading out the door.

Dean listens to the sound of the Impala start up and drive off, knowing dad's going to bury his troubles away in liquor. Doesn't think it's a half bad idea either.

He looks around the empty rental and it hits him, he can't remember the last time he's been left alone.


End file.
